


in the celestial vaults

by falsettodrop



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Bondage, Clothed Sex, Coming Untouched, Communication, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kink Exploration, M/M, Mild Verbal Humiliation, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23456422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsettodrop/pseuds/falsettodrop
Summary: “You asked for this,” Eddie reminded him—fierce, just how he knew Richie liked it. “So I’m going to give it to you.”“Jesus,” Richie said, shivering beneath him. “I’ve created a monster.”
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 43
Kudos: 364
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020, falsettodrop's Exchange Fic





	1. before.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunavagant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunavagant/gifts).



> Hi, [Luna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunavagant/pseuds/lunavagant)! I loved all of your prompts _so_ much, and I tried my hardest to mix and match your requested tags for maximum enjoyment. Also, I highkey wrote the suit thing in the second chapter specifically for you since I thought you might be into it. I was so happy to get matched with you and I truly had a blast writing this. <3
> 
> Massive thank you to my beta, [Pearl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlshop/pseuds/pearlshop), who took the quality of this fic up several notches with their suggestions. You the bomb. 
> 
> Title comes from the Florence + The Machine song, As Far As I Could Get.

These days, Eddie thought of his life in stages: before, in-between, and after.

If he pondered upon it for longer than a few minutes, the stages were not marked by Derry, either. It had to do with his happiness, with his ability to allow himself to be happy. Unadulterated contentment was a delicacy that he did not experience prior to his divorce—instead, he limited himself to quick fixes, guilty pleasures, mild instances of relief. For the most part, he coasted through life telling himself: _get through the day, push through. None of these people are happy. Happiness is a myth, Eddie. Don’t fool yourself into thinking otherwise._

He wasn’t living, but he was alive.

His mother died in his thirties. When it happened, Eddie felt so much relief that he had to lock himself in his walk-in closet and shudder through a panic attack, tears of self-hatred stinging through him. What kind of monster was he that he was glad his own mother was dead?

Freedom began with her death. It started there, but it wasn’t enough to get him to the end of the line, entirely unharmed. Eddie ended up feeling trapped, anyway; he met Myra, and his life shifted once again, as if sliding back into place. Like a key, sharp and rusted, repurposed to fit inside the door which kept him from accessing his strength. It didn’t fit. He couldn’t get it open. He was stuck.

Marriage suffocated him. Not in the same way, but so similar that he stopped living for himself. He felt aimless.

It was his fault. For he’d decided to marry her, hadn’t he? That was how it worked. He had known who she was when he said yes. It had been _his_ choice.

In theory, he only had himself to blame for years of misery. Sometimes he felt as if he was stifling himself with a pillow, forcing it up against his nose until he could no longer breathe. He might scream into it for help, muffled, but the sound would come out muted. No one would hear him. He couldn’t even allow himself to cry, since he had done it to himself, after all.

Later, he was told his reasoning was bullshit, but that was getting off-track.

Eddie tried to get a grasp on what happened to him. To them. Not just with his mother, or with Myra, or with Derry, or with the clown—but all of it. The trauma he’d endured for decades of his life, knocking him over, gutting him. It waited until he would recover before it hit him again. And then again. And then again.

He got up every time. _He got up_.

He healed, and pushed through. Life moved along, but the pain resided within him, a reminder of what he’d been through.

It sometimes hurt to remember the suffering, the lost years in-between. It made him ache with bitterness.

For the most part, he liked the reminder. He kept it locked away, carefully placed it in the box inside his heart. He enjoyed holding it in the palm of his hands and marvelling at what he lived through.

He’d been dragged through the burning lava in Hell and he had the scar to prove it. Scars, actually: down the length of his back, along his ribcage at his front, across his face. He could’ve hated it, but he didn’t. It was a reminder of his strength. He _endured_ it.

The anguish made the happiness sweeter, when he finally achieved it. He had never thought of himself as a _happy_ person. Happy was for people who didn’t cry from relief when their mother died. Happy was for everyone else.Eddie, on the other hand, was born angry, and he had damn good reason to be.

Now, he knew happiness. He cut ties with sadness the best that he could, with the help of his friends, and then there was Richie—Richie, who introduced him to happiness. Befriending it was easy; Richie fostered the relationship by keeping Eddie close, by telling him he wanted him, by _choosing_ him.

Happiness had become a good friend of Eddie’s, and he tried his hardest to nurture that relationship. Every single day.

/////////////////

Sleeping with another person again turned out to be easier than Eddie had expected.

After Derry, they’d both been prone to nightmares. He remembered the way he woke up at 3 A.M. after the first one, throat raw from his screams. He’d woken Myra all the way from the master, and she’d fretted over him for half an hour until he waved her off. She’d gone back to their bedroom, and he stayed in the guest. They always did like having their own space, and separate beds had been a luxury they could afford since their third year together.

That night, he hadn’t wanted to be alone—but he didn’t want his wife, either.

Instead, he’d reached for his phone and called Richie. 

Perhaps that should’ve been his first clue, the way only Richie could lull his anxieties and slow his heart-rate. But Eddie took a lot longer to recognise the depth of his feelings. It took more nightmare-induced phone calls before he realised: he was in love with Richie.

There were months between realising and finally telling him, and it took a few missteps before the tearful confession happened. When it did, it was worth it.

That morning, Eddie awakened first, body heavy from sleep and already half-curled around Richie, a leg thrown over his hip and his nose nestled against the nape of his neck. Waking up first was an anomaly; Richie was surprisingly a morning person—cheerful and sleepy and sweet in the morning, similar to how he used to be when they were kids. Eddie liked to wake up early, too, but he was more susceptible to bad morning moods.

He pressed a kiss to the centre of his shoulder blades, right through his shirt. Richie was so warm, still peacefully asleep.

This was happiness, he thought. Having this—having Richie, holding him in his arms.

“Rich,” Eddie said, muffled into Richie’s back, just to say his name. He _loved_ saying his name, but especially in the morning, sleep-worn and not yet ready for the world. The only person that was allowed to hear him sound like that was Richie, and vice versa. He didn’t take that privilege lightly.

Richie squirmed against Eddie’s front, a sure sign he was waking up. Eddie hid a smile against Richie’s shirt, growing slowly over his face.

“Rich- _ie_ ,” Eddie repeated, louder, testing the strength of his voice.

Richie’s body twitched before he made a deep, grumbling noise. “Mm, Eds,” Richie said, bleary and agitated. “G’back t’bed.”

Eddie breathed a laugh, failing to hide his grin. “Usually you’re the one waking _me_ up.” Which was pretty cute, but equally annoying in measure.

“Was havin’ a nice dream,” Richie mumbled, trailing off at the end like he was about to fall back asleep again.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Eddie warned, the words warm on Richie’s ear.

“Ugh,” Richie whined, overly dramatic, before giving a petulant sigh. He stirred. Eddie could feel his legs stretch under the covers, extending from their position under Eddie’s legs, their limbs tangled together. In a raspy voice, Richie complained: “It’s our day off.”

Eddie gripped Richie’s hip, rubbing into the groove and massaging the muscle there. Mostly, he was just trying to get him up without more of a fight.

“You promised me gourmet omelettes last night,” Eddie told him, unbothered by his irritability.

“Babe, I was joking,” Richie said, half into his pillow, amused and exasperated. “You really think I can make gourmet anything?”

Eddie leaned up on his elbow, resting his head on his hand to see Richie’s face. His thumb rubbed circles from where it was placed at the skin of Richie’s hip. “You’re better than me,” he admitted, quieter now that he knew Richie wouldn’t be falling back to sleep.

Richie twisted his head to look at Eddie, his mouth curling into a smile. Being on the receiving end of those adorable, sleepy blinks filled him with such unabridged affection that he could barely contain it. “Want the recipe?” he asked, clearing his threat before continuing, “Pro-tip: put all the shit that’s about to expire in it. Pray for success.”

“Mm, you’re hot when you talk chef to me,” Eddie said, smiling at him.

Richie’s expression changed then—the same way it always did whenever Eddie complimented him. Sometimes Eddie said things just to see that sweet, dumbfounded look bloom over Richie’s face. It was much too endearing to pass up.

“You’re way too easily impressed, dude,” Richie replied, not looking him in the eyes.

“Nah,” Eddie said, pulling Richie closer against him. An impossible feat, considering the fact that they were already spooning. “I just find your rare moments of competence attractive.”

Richie barked a sudden laugh. “Of course you do. You’re so—”

“—predictable? Yeah.” Eddie pressed his hips forward. He wasn’t hard yet, but he could get there—he wasn’t lying about the competence kink he had under his belt, although he got much more of a kick out of teaching Richie how to do things than being one-upped by him. It was always some sort of dual-edged sword of attractiveness when it came to Richie.

Richie tilted his chin up, unmoving from his spot on the bed, simply asking for what he wanted, and Eddie leaned down to reward him with a slow kiss. It was a little gross with their mouths stale from morning breath, but—Eddie liked it a little gross. More, actually. He flicked his tongue at Richie’s mouth, relishing in the quiet moan he got in response, and sucked on his lip before pulling away, knowing exactly what he was angling for.

Richie’s eyes were black. It was odd, but Eddie loved looking at him in the morning when he was like this—tired eyes, hazy from the lack of focus in his poor vision and the clear, dim arousal. “Are you up now?” Eddie whispered into Richie’s ear. His morning wood was evident, jutting up against Richie’s lower back, and he wondered if he’d noticed yet.

He hummed, lips slick from Eddie’s mouth. “Getting there, but— _you’re_ definitely up.”

Richie slung a hand over Eddie’s hip, groping aimlessly until he got a palm full of his ass. Fingers dug into the meat of him, causing Eddie to thrust back in retaliation. He was hardening from the mild friction, thickening against the slope of Richie’s body.

“Lower,” Richie begged, and Eddie knew immediately what he meant, smiling now that Richie had caught on. He squirmed down the bed until they were spooning properly, Eddie’s dick resting at Richie’s ass, the perfect place to grind against him. He thrusted against him, taking a shocked breath when he realised how deeply he wanted it this morning.

Another benefit of sleeping with another person again: the sex.

In his new position, he couldn’t see Richie’s face, but he _could_ leave open-mouthed kisses at the back of his neck. He keened as he thrusted again, and Richie responded with an appreciative noise. “Fuck,” Eddie muttered, pushing his hips a bit harder. “I want to fuck you, but we left the lube in the kitchen.”

“Put it in me anyway,” Richie breathed, like he was already losing it from some standard dry humping. “You fucked me yesterday afternoon, right? Maybe I’m still—”

“Oh my _God_ , Rich, I can’t do that,” Eddie said, fully prepared to give him a lecture. They were acting like horny teenagers; he really couldn’t believe them, sometimes, the way they got so worked up from barely touching each other. “You’re so fucking stupid—”

Richie gave a soft laugh. Eddie’s arm was slung over Richie’s hips, so he intertwined their fingers, craving the closeness of his touch. “Don’t act like you don’t like it,” he said. Eddie could hear the smug smirk in his voice, and if the angle allowed for it, he would’ve shut him up by kissing it off his face. “Remember, once you got turned on by me saying I couldn’t do my taxes.”

“Mmph,” Eddie responded, face growing hot. Richie read him way too easily sometimes. It was a natural consequence of being with someone who’s known you since childhood, who’s relearned your instinctive behaviours in recent years just from distant observation. Things like this, knowing Richie watched him enough to _know_ him, reminded him that Richie loved him. “That had more to do with being able to do ‘em for you.”

Richie rolled his hips back, letting out a lewd moan when Eddie’s cock caught right between his cheeks. “I have an accountant for a reason,” he replied, with forced steadiness.

“But it’s an essential skill,” Eddie countered heatedly, slipping their joint hands under Richie’s shirt together to rub at his stomach. “You weren’t even sure which bracket you’re in.”

Richie groaned with performative exaggeration, and Eddie knew what was coming before the words left him. “ _Yeah_ , baby, talk tax brackets to me, you’re making me so hard.”

Eddie laughed—too loud for the morning. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

Richie squeezed the hand holding his, arching against him. “Ridiculously into _you_.” Eddie could hear the smile in his voice as he said it. It only made him more fond.

“Mmhmm,” Eddie said, kissing the back of Richie’s neck again, at the place he knew was sensitive. “I know.”

“Wish you were ridiculously into _me_ , if you know what I mean,” Richie joked, clearly amused by himself, pushing back onto Eddie’s dick to get the point across. He was utterly charmed by it, but he refused to let it show.

“Oh, I can _get_ into you, alright,” Eddie replied instead, grinding his cock against the cleft of Richie’s ass. “I would, if the lube wasn’t so far.” It was too early to move, and he wanted to laze around the bed for a while.

“Push down your—”

“Yeah, I got you,” Eddie cut him off, pulling at Richie’s flannel pajamas where he could reach them, boxers in tandem. Quickly, he pushed his own to his knees, getting his cock out. When he pushed up against Richie next, it was with velvet skin against the cleft of his ass. “Shit.”

Richie’s breath stuttered out, and there was a beat of surprise before he replied. “Shit, that’s good.” He grinded backwards, and Eddie’s dick settled against him, wet and leaking over him.

“I’m barely doing anything to you,” Eddie replied, heart pounding in tune with his movements. He groaned. It felt _so_ good. “I’m not— _fuck_ —inside you, I’m not touching your dick—”

“Just fuck me,” Richie moaned, mindless with pleasure, scorchingly hot. “Fuck my thighs then, babe, please, _please_ —”

“You—” Eddie stilled, gripping Richie’s hand for purchase. He felt almost as if the statement had shocked all the breath out of him. “Want me to— _what_?”

“Between them,” Richie panted, grinding back harder, not having noticed Eddie’s surprise. “C’mon, you’re already dripping all over me, it’ll be easy, just—”

“Fuck,” Eddie said, with feeling, before letting go of Richie’s hand to hook his fingers around one of his thighs. He gripped the muscle with all his fingers, cock twitching when he felt how strong his thighs were. “ _Fuck_ , Rich, okay. Lift your leg a little.”

Richie obeyed without missing a beat, allowing Eddie to shuffle down the bed until he could slide his cock beneath Richie’s cock. He pressed at Richie’s leg, downward, until all that surrounded his cock was the warmth of his skin, hot with arousal.

Eddie gasped in bliss, testing some short thrusts. The channel had quickly become slick because of the pre-come drooling from the head of his cock, slicking the way for him to fuck in between.

Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand again, twining their fingers and tugging until their hands were pressed against his heart. And then he _squeezed_ his thighs together, tight and slow with pressure, and Eddie couldn’t contain the moan that was ripped from his throat. His brain short-circuited, body going tense after being overcome with desire.

“Is it good?” Richie asked, voice heady with lust. During sex, Richie was ever-greedy for praise, a piece of knowledge that Eddie cherished dear to his heart.

“Always,” Eddie managed, remembering how to work his muscles again and thrusting shallowly into the tight hollow of Richie’s thighs. He rocked his hips, groaning at the feeling of hot, slick skin dragging along his cock. “ _God_ , why didn’t we do this before, it’s so—”

Too much. It was borderline too much, the contracting muscles of Richie’s thighs flexing around him, cradling his cock, the pre-come smoothing the way.Eddie made an incoherent noise, beginning to nudge at Richie’s balls. Richie responded with an obscene series of whimpers as the thick head of Eddie’s cock prodded at them.

“Shit, Eds, you’re so fucking sexy,” Richie panted, body jerking every time Eddie fucked between his thighs, right up against his sensitive balls. “I’m so lucky, I’m so— _oh_.”

“Shut up,” Eddie said without thinking, licking at Richie’s neck, sucking at the skin. “ _I’m_ lucky, you bastard, you’re amazing.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead at Richie’s back, overwhelmed. Richie grinded his ass back against him, the rhythm of his rolling hips squeezing Eddie’s cock in tight, jerking movements.

Richie moaned. “Your dick is so—” He jolted, hard. “Your— _God_ , Eddie, it’s all over me.” He sounded like he didn’t even realise what he was saying anymore, like the words coming out of his mouth were doing so without his volition. Speeding up his thrusts, his hand clutched at Richie’s hip, hard enough to hurt. He didn’t seem to care—in fact, he seemed to _like_ it, arching back so Eddie could bear down against him with even more force. “Yeah, Eds, mess me up, c’mon.”

“I’m gonna,” Eddie said, strongly. And then: “You like it, don’t you? When I mess you up?”

“Fuck yes,” Richie groaned, out of his mind. “I want you to—”

“Tell me,” Eddie said, fast, before Richie could back down. He needed the words to push him over. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna hear you—”

“Hold me down,” Richie blurted through the grinding, moaning before continuing: “Split me open, tie me up—”

“ _Rich_ ,” Eddie gasped. The deadly combination of Richie’s motormouth and his thick thighs tightening around his swollen cock were going to throw him over the edge. “Kiss me. God, please.”

Richie twisted his neck, then, to kiss him—sloppy, wet, coating their lips. Their lips could only somewhat reach each other like this, and when Eddie licked at his mouth, his spit got all over Richie’s chin. Richie gasped, teeth biting at Eddie’s lips, bottom lip caught between the sharp incisors of Richie’s mouth, and then—

The rhythm of their hips stuttered, and that was it; Eddie came in long, endless pulses between Richie’s thighs, breaking the kiss to groan into his mouth. He could feel the slickness getting all over his thighs, his cock.

“Rich,” Eddie said. “Fuck, you’re all wet now—”

Richie whined, long and hard, and Eddie could feel it: his spent cock softening between his thighs, come surrounding him, coating him. Richie was a _mess_. Eddie did that to him.

Stupid with lust, Eddie pushed back to untangle their bodies before flipping Richie over in an instant, hand going to his dick and stripping it in his hand with merciless jerks. “Let go, baby,” he whispered in Richie’s ear, and he groaned beneath him. “Yeah, yeah, that’s so good, that’s— _fuck_ , yes.”

Richie moaned, humping his hips into the vice-grip Eddie had around his cock. The bedsheets had been thrown off when Eddie shifted position, and he could watch it, now, the fat head of Richie’s dick peeking through the fist Eddie had around him. It was red and swollen from lack of attention, drooling all over his hand. When Eddie’s gaze returned to his face, the corners of Richie’s eyes were wet, the same way they got when he was right about to come.

“Rich, please—ugh, you were so hot, letting me use your body like that, letting me fuck your thighs.”

“Eds,” Richie whimpered, fucking up into his grip. He arched against him, body submitting to Eddie entirely, and it made Eddie think as he watched him. He thought of what Richie said right before Eddie came—the request he made, thoughtlessly, like Eddie had pulled it from deep inside of him, surrounded by the security of his passion. Almost as if it had been locked in a vault within Richie’s soul, gifted to him by Eddie’s actions. He decided to use it and see what would happen.

“Next time I’m going to hold you down, just like you asked,” Eddie promised him, not thinking before he spoke, acting on pure instinct. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t be able to move, you’ll just have to lie there and take it—”

As if Eddie had commanded it, Richie shot off then, thick stripes of come slicking over their bodies in reaction to his words. He usually came much more than him, and Eddie always found it so fucking hot, the messiness of it all. When Eddie looked at him, there was a sheen to his eyes, and that was how he knew it had been good—the overwhelming relief tended to have that result, and Eddie craved it from him.

“You’re okay,” Eddie whispered, kissing him, gentler now that they’d both come. He settled his forehead against Richie’s shoulder, chest heaving from exertion, shocked by how good it had been. It was always _so fucking good_. “Wow, that was…”

“Yeah,” Richie agreed, voice scraped raw, like Eddie had wrung out all the feelings within him through his dick. He turned his head to kiss Eddie, soft and pliant, lips plush between Eddie’s. When they broke apart, he was smiling. “It gets better every time,” Richie told him, sounding vulnerable, like an exposed nerve that Eddie had nudged at until he was aching.

Eddie reached up to thumb at the corner of Richie’s mouth. “It does,” he agreed. He took a moment to look at Richie and wondered if he could see him properly. “You want your glasses?”

“Yes, please,” Richie said, nuzzling into his pillow. Eddie grinned at the sight, fondness squeezing in his chest like a hand wrapping around his heart. He leaned over Richie’s body to grab them from the nightstand, then slid them onto Richie’s face, slowly and carefully.

There he was.

The sight of him alone almost made him want to cry. Richie always made him feel like this: affected, overwhelmed, moved. By an overgrown man and his ridiculous spectacles.

He loved him, and so he told him, because it was the least of what Richie deserved.

“I love you,” Eddie said, quietly between them, like he was saying a vow and swearing himself away to be Richie’s forever.

Richie smiled up at him in response, beautifully, and it was all he needed. He knew what that smile meant. He didn’t need the words. He could see it, solely from the irises of Richie’s eyes.

“Shower?” Eddie prompted. “Then food.”

“Okay,” Richie said, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll feed you, you menace.”

“I don’t keep you around for nothing,” Eddie joked, and when Richie flashed his teeth at him in a lazy grin, he knew he couldn’t be happier.

/////////////////

As Richie cooked breakfast for them both, Eddie leaned on the kitchen island, stared at his broad shoulders, and thought.

Hearing what Richie blurted out during sex—the thing was, it wasn’t exactly surprising. He wasn’t _shocked_ by it. In the moment, perhaps he had been a little surprised that Richie had mustered the courage to say it in the first place. But then again, they had been in the heat of the moment. Maybe Richie didn’t actually want it, and he was just running his mouth as he usually did. 

Eddie didn’t think it was that, though. There had to be a sliver of truth to his request—he knew there did. A feeling deep inside his chest told him, and he knew he had to follow it.

Their dynamic had always been a lot of give and take, before they got together, and Eddie had expected it to be the same once they moved in together. At the beginning, it had been—the first time they had sex, Eddie had been the one to get fucked. He wasn’t sure _why_ that was, just that he thought it was the expected way—Richie was bigger than him, and although they were pretty equal in strength, he had desperately wanted to get fucked. He _loved_ it, when they did it. It was so good, he didn’t think anything could be better.

But then Richie had taken it, and everything between them shifted.

Richie never said it, at least not out loud, but Eddie could tell. Richie _loved_ to get fucked, to have Eddie inside of him. Eddie didn’t think hard about it, about why that was, and he didn’t have to be told to know it to be true—he’d understood from the response, from the way Richie had begged for it. When they were in the mood, they still did it the other way, but that was Richie’s preference. Slowly, it became Eddie’s preference, too. And how could it not be, after seeing how Richie reacted? How could he pass that up, the opportunity to make Richie incoherent, render him stupid and useless and wrecked?

Richie might not know it, but he’d given Eddie everything. The key to that door which held his strength, the acquaintance of happiness, the pleasure of living. He was the reason for Eddie’s joy. Eddie wanted to give him something in return.

“You’re quiet,” Richie commented, bringing Eddie out of his reverie. Eddie’s eyes shot up, and laughed to himself.

“Sorry,” Eddie said, walking over to wrap his arms around him, front to his back. He loved holding Richie back-to-front. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Work,” Eddie lied. He squeezed his arms around him and hummed, aiming to distract.

“My little koala,” Richie cooed, even though he knew Eddie hated it when he called him little. The voice was pretty fucking cute though, but he refused to provide Richie with that type of ammunition.

“Not little,” Eddie countered, but a smile snuck its way onto his face regardless. It was what Eddie liked to call The Richie Effect, the easy way that he made him smile and laugh despite being the most aggravating person alive.

“You are compared to me, baby,” Richie sing-sang. It wasn’t like he was wrong. They both liked it: how much bigger Richie was compared to Eddie, the size of his _everything_ —shoulders, hands, legs, cock. It was painfully attractive, the differences between them.

Eddie got a hand under Richie’s shirt, rucking it up until his hand was pressed to his ribcage. Slow and sure, he raked his nails over him, knowing he could feel the stinging swelter of it over his stomach. At the same time, he opened his mouth languidly against the bare skin of Richie’s neck, kissing it with his lips and the flat of his tongue.

Richie hissed, arching backward until they were molded together even further. “Jesus. Did this morning not tire you out?”

“For a few hours,” Eddie said, biting at Richie’s nape.

“You’re fucking insatiable,” Richie said, but he was melting against him like he couldn’t help it. Eddie knew his weaknesses so well. “At least let me finish this, you gremlin.”

“Mm,” Eddie mumbled. “Okay. Feed me. Then sex.” He let go of him, stepping back. “I’m going to put the whites in the laundry.”

“Evil,” Richie muttered, turning to look at him, but he seemed more amused than distraught. “Blue balling me at the stove, telling me you’re gonna clean. You know how hot that gets me—”

“Shut up, Rich,” Eddie said, smiling. “Finish.”

Before gathering the clothes, though, Eddie stopped by his bedside, unplugged his cell, and added to his to-do list—carefully typing out, vague and ambiguous in case Richie were to ever come across it: _research_.

He knew what he had to do. He just needed some time to prepare.


	2. after.

Eddie was prone to overthinking. That was the hard, honest truth.

It wasn’t that he was worried about doing it, really. He did his research meticulously, even outsourced to Reddit when he needed suggestions. They provided him with a wealth of options—and he thought about it for a long time, weighing the rope choices for a few days before he decided, _fuck it_ , and placed an order from an sex shop which had good reviews and promised discrete packaging. After all, he was sending the order to work—there was no way he was going to send it home first, for Richie to open like a sneaky twelve year old. It would probably end up both ruining the surprise and sending him into a downward spiral of emotions. And no one at work would ever dare to open a package with his name on it, knowing that if they did, they were in for a long, angry tirade.

He had to talk to Richie first, before he sprung it on him. They weren’t always good at communicating, and Richie tended to actually be _bad_ at asking for the things he wanted, constantly relenting and putting Eddie’s needs before his own. It was sweet until it became frustrating because Eddie wanted to do good things for Richie, too.

That had a lot to do with why he was so dead-set on this. Richie hardly ever asked for things, and while he didn’t exactly _ask_ for it, he could tell that it was something Richie wanted.

He knew for sure, after watching him that week.

Eddie had known Richie was responsive during sex, but the truth was: Richie was responsive to _everything_. To Eddie’s hand on the small of his back as he passed him in the kitchen, hurried kisses before one of them ran out the door, and always, always Eddie’s fingers twisted in the curl of Richie’s hair.Eddie never thought playing with someone’s hair could be hot, until Richie butted his head into Eddie’s lap while they watched TV, turning lax and easy after just a few tugs.

It was ridiculous, but it wasn’t new. This was just how they were—it was how they’d always been, even as children. Eddie didn’t understand how it had taken him this long to realise.

On top of all that, Eddie had to take time to prepare, mentally and emotionally, for what he knew he had to give Richie. He was doing this for him, not for himself, and Eddie could admit, at least to himself, he was scared. Scared he wouldn’t like it, and he wouldn’t be able to deliver. Scared that it would be stupid in the moment or that he wouldn’t be able to find the right moment to bring it up.

He tried to imagine himself in the moment, tying ropes around Richie’s wrists, restraining him. It made him tingle, just thinking about it, but he couldn’t tell if those were the nerves or—something else. Something deeper inside him, something he had yet to discover. He had to push through it, to step up to the plate, to be the type of person who could do this for him. Richie made him forget about the nerves and stop, to wonder.

Never before had Eddie done this sort of thing—nor did he ever want to. But Richie made him want to. And he wanted to, for Richie.

/////////////////

On Friday Eddie left work at an unusual hour, opting to drive home rather than stay and yell at the new interns for the remainder of the evening. He would have decided to stay, but then a package appeared on his desk, unassuming and on top of a tall stack of paperwork. It seemed like the most boring box that he’d ever seen in his life, but Eddie knew that inside it held the very thing he’d agonized over for days.

His heart jumped from the nerves, and he immediately sent an email to let his boss know he was going home early, slipping a pair of scissors inside his briefcase before he left to lock himself in his car. It was then that he thanked Cadillac for his tinted windows before he pulled the box into his lap, ripped through the tape with his weapon of choice, and finally held it in his hands.

Silk. Yellow silk, or rather—gold.

He’d known that the ropes he’d chosen would be silk—he had ordered them, after all, researching the safest options for hours. In his hands, they felt light but weighted. He rubbed his thumb over them, marvelling at the material. It _felt_ expensive, he could tell just be looking at and touching it. He was aware that they were expensive; he’d splurged because he had the option, but having them between his fingers made his breath hitch in his throat. 

This was what he was supposed to use. To tie up Richie. To tie him to their bed.

He swallowed, shoving them back inside their package, and then hit automatic on his car in an attempt to clear his head before he got home.

After parking in the entrance, he decided to forgo the package entirely and shoved the ropes in one of his briefcase compartments. If he walked inside with a box, Richie would ask what was inside, and Eddie didn’t think he could lie to him while on edge.

Snapping out of it, he reminded himself—he didn’t have to use them tonight. He could do it… tomorrow. Or Sunday. Or— 

He opened his door, greeted immediately with the sight of Richie at their kitchen table, working away at something or the other.

“Hello, husband,” Richie said, without looking up at him. He was hunched over his laptop and typing with furious speed, as if he had a brilliant idea that he had to jot down.

As he slipped off his work shoes, he replied, “We aren’t married.”

“ _Yet_ ,” Richie pointed out, singing the word.

Eddie laughed, softly. He nodded, even though Richie wasn’t looking at him yet, and walked up to his spot at the kitchen table. “Yet,” he agreed, because it was true—this was it for them, they’d known it from the moment they confessed to each other. They’d even said it, tears in both their eyes, before kissing each other with desperation. The memory still brought a lump to his throat, so he bent down to press a kiss to the crown of Richie’s head to distract himself.

Richie looked up, then, and immediately—his eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Eddie asked, confused by the shocked expression on his face.

Richie’s eyes roamed his body in sweeping motions. “What the hell, Eddie. Why are you so fucking hot?”

Eddie went warm all over, but he knew his face was especially red. “Oh.”

“Where did you get this suit?” Richie asked, a hand sliding up Eddie’s torso before slipping under his lapel, pulling him closer. “You look damn good.”

“Thanks,” Eddie muttered, pleased with himself. “I haven’t worn it in ages, but. Yeah.”

“It’s sexy,” Richie continued, appreciative glance burning through the layers of Eddie’s suit. “God, turn around.”

Eddie snorted, blushing. “Rich.”

“I’m dead serious, Eds.”

“I know you are,” Eddie said, with a smile, rolling his eyes before dropping his handbag and relenting. The suit was lavish—deep, navy, and pinstripe—and he had spent a lot on the tailoring, too. He did a full-body turn like a showgirl, reddening further when Richie did a wolf-whistle.

He turned back, relaxing when he saw the easy smile on Richie’s lips. “Nice ass,” Richie remarked.

“You’re a nice ass,” Eddie snarked back, praying for the compliments to end. He couldn’t take any more, and Eddie had never been good at accepting when people said kind things about him.

Richie grinned. “Your best work yet.”

“Thank you,” Eddie said, before bending to peck him on the lips. He picked up his briefcase and started walking to the bedroom, calling to Richie as he went, “You wanna do anything tonight?”

“Up for anything,” he heard Richie call back, before there was a shuffling noise.

He sat on the edge of his side of the bed, resting his belongings at his feet and began to untangle his tie. “Movie?” Eddie called back. “Or maybe—”

Richie appeared in the doorway, crossing his arms and leaning against it. “Or _maybe_ we should make out.”

Eddie paused, tie half undone. “What?” he asked, before continuing to undo the knot.

There was a strange silence then, when Richie didn’t reply. Eddie looked up, and Richie’s eyes were on his hands, on the movement of him removing his work tie.

“You okay, Rich?”

He could hear Richie swallow from his place on the bed. In a hoarse tone, he replied, “Yeah.”

But his eyes were still trained on his fingers. And then, Eddie realised: the tie, the knot.

He breathed deeply, thinking to himself: _this is your chance. Ask him._

He stayed silent for a few beats before clearing his throat. “Rich?” He waited for his response before he motioned him closer. “Can you come here?”

“Okay,” Richie agreed, before walking closer, sitting next to Eddie on his side. “What—?”

Eddie dropped his tie to the floor, turned to Richie, promptly cut him off—kissing him on the mouth as kindly as possible.

Inside his throat, Richie made a thrilled sound, as if he was asking for more already. Eddie cupped his jaw, pressing his thumb against his pulse point, hearing the _thud, thud, thud_ of his heart. Harder, he pressed his lips, harder until Richie was forced to topple over on the bed and they were laying across it with Eddie looming over him, their legs hanging off the side and mouths fused together like they were half their age.

Between kisses, Eddie asked him: “Richie,” he whispered, kissing him deeper after he said his name. Richie hummed. “Are you happy?”

“Mm,” Richie mumbled against Eddie’s lips, licking into his mouth, slotting their lips together with more purpose. “ _So_ happy,” he confirmed, dreamily.

Eddie almost wanted to snort at how easy he was, but he was on a mission. “No, I mean—”

Richie pulled back, lips swollen and pink from being kissed, and their eyes locked together, Richie’s with a question in them. “I promise, Eds,” he said, softly, like he knew Eddie needed to hear it. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He scanned Richie’s face, and all he could see painted over him was honesty. Then, he thought: _but is it the best it could be? Do you not want more? Are you—_

“Satisfied?” Eddie asked, before realising that isn’t a complete question with Richie’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Sorry, I meant. Are you satisfied?”

Richie blinked up at him. “I don’t follow.”

Eddie could feel his ears burning when he forced his next words out. “I mean, uh. Sexually.”

Richie’s eyes widened. “Oh.” He seemed thrown, like he hadn’t expected this line of conversation. He shooked his head, then, in a reassursing tonality, hands rubbing along Eddie’s back: “Eds, it’s really fucking good. I’m serious.”

“But.” Ugh, it was so frustrating, not knowing how to word it. He really had to spell it out for him, didn’t he? “I mean. Is there anything you _want_?”

“Want?” Richie asked, still oblivious as ever.

“Like—”

His neurons were flying at a million miles per hour, and he didn’t know if this would blow over well, but he leaned back before grabbing both of Richie’s hands in his, dragging them over Richie’s head—pinning his wrists there, trapped in Eddie’s grip. Richie’s breath hitched, and his eyelids fluttered shut in response, visibly melting into the mattress. Eddie leaned over to kiss him again, slow and languid, taking his time as he sucked Richie’s lip between his. He was already responding beneath him, making a sweet, needy sound, and he’d barely done anything to him yet.

He pulled back, watching with care as Richie’s eyes opened again. Pitch black.

“Do you like this?” Eddie asked, inflection deep and quiet.

He could see Richie’s chest rising and falling, their eyes unwavering from each other. “I—”

“Let me clarify,” Eddie cut him off, around a dry mouth. “Do you want to get _fucked_ like this?”

“Shit,” Richie breathed, and then with a craze that was bleeding into the mood: “I’m— _Eddie_.”

“I think you do,” Eddie answered for him, tightening his hold on Richie’s wrists. “Look at you, you’re so... God, Richie.”

Richie moaned, quietly, still not responding with full sentences. It was as if his brain had gone offline.

“What would you do,” Eddie asked, fighting to keep his voice steady, “if I told you I had rope?”

Richie inhaled, like Eddie had punched him right in the gut. “You have— _what_?”

“Rope.”

Richie licked his lips, expression gone wired. “Like… as in—?”

“I bought some for us,” he revealed, revelling in Richie’s surprise. He kissed him once, before explaining: “They’re silk. Bondage ropes.”

“Bondage ropes?” Richie repeated, weakly.

Eddie swallowed. “Too much?” He pushed at Richie’s hands, until they were hard up against the bed, applying pressure, if only to see the way he reacted again.

Richie gasped, arching against Eddie’s hands, pulling at his hands as if he wanted to break free—but Eddie refused to let go, not before they finished their conversation. “Edward Kaspbrak,” Richie rasped, “you little minx.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction. “No?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Richie said, want evident in the single word. “Fuck, you bought—?”

“For you,” Eddie confirmed, shoulders relaxing now that he knew Richie was into it, the confirmation lighting a fire inside of him, sparking him with the urge to _burn_. “I wanted to make it good for you.”

“Mmm,” Richie whined, struggling against Eddie’s grip. It was as if the more he realised Eddie wouldn’t let go, the more turned on he got. Softly, he said, “It’s always good for me, babe.”

“For me, too,” he replied, heart equally as soft as Richie’s tone. “But…”

His hands tightened, and Richie stopped breathing again. There. That was what he wanted.

“I want it to be the best,” Eddie finished. He was determined to make it the best, to blow Richie’s mind, to give him this one thing in exchange for all the happiness he’d been given. “You trust me, right?”

Richie nodded, almost too eager, but anticipation began to dawn on his face—as if he was realising what was to come. Soothing a thumb over his wrist, Eddie released him.

“Do something for me, okay?” Eddie asked, waiting for Richie’s quick nod. “Take off your clothes. All of them. Then lie on the bed, and put your hands above your head, near the headboard.”

“Okay, bossy,” Richie teased, leaning up for a kiss before he did what he was told.

Eddie gave it to him, letting their lips slide together with ease, pouring his love into the action.. He let go, then moved off the bed to grab his briefcase, entering the numbers to undo the lock before pulling out the gold ribbons. He put the bag down, grabbed the lube from his bedside drawer, and turned around.

Just in time to watch Richie raise his hands above his head, naked all over. His cock was already hard, rising against his stomach, and his legs were spread apart.

Eddie crawled over to him on the bed, lifting a leg to straddle his hips, adjusting until he could feel Richie’s cock nudge at Eddie’s ass. He settled over him, placing the bottle of lube next to them before sliding one of the ropes through the bars of the headboard to wrap around Richie’s wrists. Quiet settled over them as he worked away, tension causing a shiver to slither down his spine. Eddie tightened them as much as he could without cutting off Richie’s circulation, finishing it off with a final bow.

He leaned back, on his haunches, to admire his handiwork. It was _beautiful_ —the colour was brilliant, contrasted beside the milky white of his skin. The gold was bright, glowing under the dull light of their room.

Eddie scooted down the bed until he was over Richie’s thighs instead, his swollen cock dripping pre-come over the hairs of his stomach, so close to Eddie that he could reach over and touch him if he wanted to. Which he didn’t—not yet.

“Eds,” Richie breathed. With Eddie looming over him like this, he could see exactly when Richie struggled against the restraints, skin going whiter with every pull. “ _Fuck_ , I can’t move.”

He would’ve thought of that as a complaint, but he could _see_ Richie’s cock jump against his stomach after realising, the pleasant way he was squirming beneath him, thoroughly enjoying the development. He _liked_ it; Richie liked that he was restrained, that he couldn’t move, that he was entirely at Eddie’s mercy.

“You like it?” His hand smoothed up Richie’s body until it rested next to his cock, still refusing to touch him. A thrill ran through him. “Only I can touch you, now.”

Richie bucked his hips, needing the friction that Eddie didn’t want to give him. “Should’ve known you’d be like this,” Richie replied, heady, like he was into it. Eddie knew he was into it.

“Do I have to gag you next?” Eddie said, mostly as a joke.

“Oh, I bet you’d like that,” Richie replied, but only after he’d faltered a little at the thought. “Tie me up, shut me up—”

“You asked for this,” Eddie reminded him—fierce, just how he knew Richie liked it. Richie told him how much he liked it almost every day. “So I’m going to give it to you.”

“Jesus,” Richie said, shivering beneath him. “I’ve created a monster.”

Eddie paused, a moment of concern passing over him. “You scared?”

“Eddie,” Richie told him, “I’m always scared of you. You’re terrifying and hot. _Terrifyingly_ hot. It’s fucking sexy. I’m going to come right now—”

“Oh my God,” Eddie laughed, before shuffling down a little further, grabbing the lube. “Okay, relax, please.”

Hands massaged over Richie’s skin, wherever he could reach, watching as the tension bled out of him, as he went lax into the bed. He didn’t want to touch Richie’s cock yet, but as he spread his legs, he could see his balls, swollen and aching for his touch. With deliberation, he brushed his fingers over them, head spinning when Richie let out a delicious hiss, grinding into the palm of his hand.

“Are you gonna—keep the suit?” Richie asked, voice strained, eyes dark as they skirted over Eddie’s body, the blue pinstripe painted on him.

Eddie blinked, looking down. He’d forgotten he was wearing it before, but—now that he thought about it, he wanted to keep it on. Wearing it changed him, put him in the headspace to go to work, to conquer the day. It made him feel powerful.

Positioned over Richie, he needed that.

“Yes,” he said, decisively. It was the right decision; Richie rewarded him with an approving sound, and Eddie couldn’t help but let a pleased smile pull at his lips. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

He spread Richie’s legs further. Waited for his nod. Watched the way he spread them further, exposing himself to Eddie further, vulnerable. The juxtaposition made Eddie want to shudder, thinking of how exposed Richie was right now, naked and wanting, while Eddie stood over him in a suit worth thousands. In his hand, he popped open the cap of the lube, coating his fingers with a generous amount.

As he warmed it with his hands, he asked, “You’re gonna be good for me while I finger you, right?”

Richie nodded twice, quick in succession. “Yes, yes, I will.”

Eddie always had been the only thing that could get Richie to exercise some self-restraint.

Eddie lifted a leg, pulling it over his own spread thighs, and waited until he could see Richie’s opening with clarity. He let a finger brush over his rim, teasing it in circles, over and over until Richie was pushing against his hand and—he slipped one of his fingers inside with ease. Richie moaned, fucking himself on the finger before Eddie pressed it in knuckle-deep, feeling at the slick heat where he’d soon fuck inside. Eddie’s own cock was pressed up against his suit, straining for relief, but right now his only focus was Richie and making him feel good.

He added another finger without pause, and Richie’s mouth went slack, falling open. The thrusts are relentless, fucking and shoving into Richie to stretch him out and get him ready for Eddie’s dick. He could _see_ Richie losing his mind, trembling against the golden silk, the headboard creaking as Richie struggled against it.

Three fingers. Three, sliding deep inside Richie, touching him where he needed it the most, spacing them out until his hole was gaping and wet with lube, filthy, obscene sounds echoing through the air as he fit his thick fingers inside, fucked into him with vicious movements.

“Is this good?” Eddie asked, watching as Richie’s cock drooled over him, showing him how much he liked it. “Is this what you needed?”

“Please,” Richie begged, senseless with need. “Babe, I need it, I—”

He added more lube to his fingers, getting his hole wet with it, and Richie shuddered under him. “I’ll give you what you want.”

 _Screw the suit_ , Eddie thought, on the verge of going mad with want. _I’ll fuck him wearing it._

He undid the button of his pants, sliding down the zipper and pulling out his cock, not bothering to remove his pants all the way as they slithered down to his knees. He pulled Richie forward by the legs, pushing them to either side of him before he coated his cock with lube, pumped himself once, twice, before pressing the tip to Richie’s entrance. It sank inside so easily, Eddie thought he could come right then and there.

“God,” Richie said, panting. “Yes, _yes_.”

 _Desperate_ , Eddie’s brain whispered. Richie was desperate for it, fat cock spurting all over himself, mouth open and drooling for Eddie to split him further open.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asked, as he sunk further into the tight heat, feeling it envelope his cock. He could feel as Richie’s hole gave way for him, as it opened up inside him, the deeper he fucked inside. Depriving himself earlier might’ve been a bad idea, because Eddie could feel himself on the edge of losing it.

Richie pulled at the restraints, hard enough that the bed frame lurched forward a bit. Eddie knew that Richie wanted to touch him; it was how they usually had sex, hands all over each other, nails raking along their bodies, fingers clawing and pressing on their most sensitive spots. He almost wanted to reassure Richie that he was okay, that he didn’t need it—watching him struggle against the rope was sight enough to turn him on.

“God, the way you look right now,” Eddie said, hoarsely, rolling his hips inside the wet warmth. He angled himself differently, knew immediately when he rubbed against Richie’s prostate, because he moaned for it, loud. “Fuck, Richie, I love you. I should keep you here like this—”

Richie gasped, following it with a wet sob. “ _Eddie_.”

“Is that what you need, baby? Rope around your wrists, tied to our bed, spread open for me to fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want it.”

“God, please,” Richie said, come spurting more, like he was thinking about Eddie doing that to him. His desperation made him thrash against the silk, writhing with heedlessness.

“I should do it,” he said, with franticness, fucking into him unevenly, knowing he was almost at the end of his wits. “God, I should—I should fuck you just like this, all the time. Would it be enough? Do you need more?”

“Yes,” Richie said, trying to fuck himself back on Eddie’s dick, but unable to. It was just like Eddie had said: all he can do is take what he gives him. “ _Yes_ , more.”

“Slut,” Eddie said aloud, not even thinking as he said the word. A pang of shame immediately overcame him, sizzling through his body, but Richie’s reaction—he cried out. Thrusted into the air, angling for friction. Richie was into it. Eddie took a shocked breath himself, before testing out the word, puncturing it with a deeper, harder thrust. His boyfriend was a _cockslut_. “You want it so much, Rich. You’re such a slut for it.”

“ _Fuck_!” Richie cried, and then he came. Without Eddie even laying a finger on his dick. He came untouched, white stripes shooting from his red, swollen cock, all over both of them, hole clenching around Eddie’s dick, like he never wanted him to leave, and it was that which sent Eddie over the edge, that sweltering heat tightening around him so hard that he could no longer restrain himself.

“Fuck,” Eddie echoed in agreement, collapsing over him. His suit was covered in come, especially now that they were pressed together, but at this moment, he didn’t give a single fuck; it had all been worth it, getting to see Richie unravel.

“Eds,” Richie said, quietly. “Kiss me?”

He did, reaching up to press their lips together, much gentler than he had fucked him. The deep, slow slide of their mouths, teeth clacking together—not from the intensity of the kiss, but from not caring how it happened.

“Sorry,” Eddie said into Richie’s lips. “I’ll untie you now.”

Richie laughed into his mouth, pecking him one last time. “Yes, please.”

Eddie reached up to pull the ropes from the bedframe, undoing the knot after struggling for a brief moment of panic. When they were loose, he threw the ribbons to the side of the bed to clean up later, soothing at the angry, red marks on Richie’s wrists with his thumb.

“You did a number, here,” he told Richie, bringing his hand closer to press a kiss at his forearms and scooting up the bed. He readjusted them so that he was lying against his pillow, Richie snuggling into his side, both of them sweaty with exhaustion. 

“I can’t believe you fucked me wearing that,” Richie said, still breathing hard, into Eddie’s neck.

“Neither can I,” Eddie admitted, thighs aching from exertion. “I’m going to need to send it for dry cleaning.”

Richie snorted. “You fucking bougie bitch.”

Haughtily, Eddie countered, “I am _not_ —”

“Babe, you could’ve tied me up with anything,” he replied, “but you bought _silk_ rope.”

Eddie paused. Well, that was true. But it was an investment. Something that Richie clearly didn’t understand, considering he was a millionaire that bought all his clothes at The Gap, of all places.

“I’m not complaining, just teasing,” Richie said, with a smile. “I’m officially a rope bunny.” He said it with an amused inflection, like Eddie was supposed to know what that meant.

Eddie scrunched his eyebrows. “What the fuck is a rope bunny?”

Richie was quiet for a beat, before replying, “Google it, my love.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’d rather not.”

“I mean, your search history is probably already a disaster.” Richie’s arm went around him, tucking a hand under Eddie’s back. “I bet you did tons of research.”

Eddie felt caught. “No, I didn’t.”

“Liar,” Richie grinned. “What did you look at? Yahoo Answers? Quora?” He gasped, eyes going wide before turning to look up at him. “ _Reddit_?”

Eddie kept his face blank; he refused to give him anything. Richie would probably attempt to find his account if he said a word to confirm it. “Shut your mouth, Richard.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Richie mumbled, resting on his chest and kissing the fuzzy hollow over his heart. “Keep your secrets.”

“I will,” Eddie said, pleased that he let it go. He thought for a few moments, combing his fingers through Richie’s hair. “But… Rich?”

“Hm?”

He didn’t know how to say it, but he needed to try, for their future, and for Richie. He wanted Richie to ask him for things. “If you want something, next time,” Eddie said, “ask me for it?”

Richie was quiet for a moment, tracing circles over Eddie’s shirt.

“Richie?” he prompted, when he didn’t reply.

“I guess it’s just that…” Richie tried. “I don’t know. I guess I’m scared to ask.”

Eddie softened; he never wanted Richie to feel uneasy, or scared. Especially not around him. He wanted to know everything he was thinking, without filter. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know where I thought I’d end up when I was a kid?” Richie asked, suddenly, like he had just decided he would say it. He didn’t give Eddie a chance to reply, answering his own question. “I thought I’d be dead, sometime between eighteen and thirty, if I even had a chance to get out of Derry.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Eddie said, his grip on Richie tightening just at the thought. The words were Eddie’s own personal nightmare; he couldn’t imagine anything worse.

Richie shrugged, voice low. “It’s just the truth, Eds. I never thought I’d get this. I couldn’t even let myself dream about it.”

Eddie leaned to press a kiss to the curve under Richie’s eye, even though he wasn’t crying.

“I already got everything I wanted,” Richie explained. “Just… by being with you. Isn’t it selfish to ask for even more than that?”

Hearing Richie talk about himself, about them, like that—it made his heart hurt. “No, Rich,” Eddie said, with tenderness, wanting to handle this issue with care. “That’s not how it works. I remember—” He cut himself off, thinking hard. “I never thought I’d be happy, you know? Like, my marriage was a fucking sham, and—we didn’t even _sleep_ together, at night. I’d sleep in the guest room, and I thought of it as a good thing, but I… wasn’t in love. I wasn’t actually happy, ever.” He scratched his nails along Richie’s scalp, gently. “You changed everything for me.”

Richie stayed quiet, listening to his words, taking them in—it might have made him nervous, a fear of overstepping poking at him in the back of his head, but Eddie was on a roll, and he had to get it all out; he had to let Richie know that he wanted to give him everything, too.

“We don’t have to… keep coasting through life, y’know?” he tried, unsure if he was making sense. “We don’t have to stay in that place. There isn’t some limit to our happiness.” He bent to kiss Richie’s head. “We won, baby. We get to have it all.”

Richie sighed. “You’re right.” He said, words so soft that it made Eddie want to hug him harder.

“I always am,” Eddie said, hiding his smile in Richie’s unruly hair. For a few moments, they allowed the quiet to consume them, sun setting outside their window and coating them in marigold sunbeams. Eddie really did never expect to have this, but he was so fucking happy he did.

“Your poor suit is disgusting now,” Richie said, breaking silence to poke at it. “It’s soaked in come.”

Eddie gagged. It was true, but phrasing it like that was unnecessary. “ _Richie_!”

Richie laughed at him. Loud and bright, building inside of their bedroom, just how it should be.

/////////////////

In an unexpected turn of events: it turned out, happiness wasn’t so much of a myth, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> These are too good not to share, so credit to my good friend [liesmyth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liesmyth/pseuds/liesmyth) who cracked me up with these fake Reddit posts.
> 
> [ ](https://imgbb.com/)
> 
> [](https://imgbb.com/)  
> 
> 
>   
> Also, Richie 100% hears about the frosting excuse and tells Eddie, the next time they bareback, "Frost me up, baby." That is canon.
> 
> //
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I cherish comments a lot if you have any to leave for me; they are always appreciated.
> 
> \+ **me, elsewhere** :  
> twitter: [falsettowrites](http://falsettodrop.tumblr.com) | tumblr: [falsettodrop](http://falsettodrop.tumblr.com), [viewsfromthestyx](http://viewsfromthestyx.tumblr.com).


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